


As the Fox Said

by Daegaer



Series: For Art's Sake [25]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: 1920s, Art, Artists, Assassins & Hitmen, Fairy Tale Elements, Language, London, M/M, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3236345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crawford seeks a new subject matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the Fox Said

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indelicateink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indelicateink/gifts).



I flip through my books of sketches, seeking inspiration. I have many I _could_ pick to be the basis of a new work, and yet I see all at once that they were made with certain expectations. Always I have made of Schuldig some creature from the stories I read over and over as a boy, the myths of Greece and Rome. It's true that I pay Schuldig to sit for me, but perhaps he is tired of this, I think. Perhaps he'd rather imagine himself in other guises.

"What do you want today?" he asks, folding his jacket and dropping it onto my bed. He unbuttons cuffs and collar, stretching. "Isn't it time you started painting something rather than just sketching?"

"Yes, yes," I mutter. "I want something different, though. I've been thinking –"

"That's never any good."

"I think I'd like to do something with one of your stories, something _you'd_ have known as a child."

He looks at me ironically, one eyebrow raised. "You mean King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?" he says dryly. "Maybe Robin Hood? Or are those just a bit too English for me?" He waits as I wither a little under his gaze, then grins. "Rapunzel? Rumpelstiltskin? Even over in America you've heard of those ones, haven't you?"

"Yes, that's why I'd like to use something different – did the Grimm brothers write down anything other than the well-known stories?"

He laughs at me. "Anything _else?_ You missed a fucking _lot_ by reading them in English, Crawford. What about _Lucky Hans_ \- that's about a man who keeps making bad bargains because he's so lazy, swapping good things for worse and worse until he has nothing at all and is really happy about it."

"How does that make him lucky?" I ask, rather dubiously.

Schuldig rolls his eyes at me. "It's just meant to be _funny_. Maybe _The Golden Bird_ \- that has talking animals, wicked brothers, cursed princes, beautiful princesses, and lots of death and decapitation too."

I look at him, considering him quickly as a wicked brother or a cursed prince. "Tell me the story."

He looks at me in what seems like some alarm, as if the consequences of using a story unknown to English-speakers hadn't occurred to him, then sits at the table, rolling up his shirt sleeves as if he is about to engage in manual work. He lights a cigarette – one of mine, I note – and gathers his thoughts.

"I never had to think about telling it in English," he grumbles, "and it's been a long time since I read it. Um. Once upon a time – if you fucking laugh again you can forget all of this – there was a king who had a tree with golden apples –"

He is, I know, a natural and fluent liar when he wishes and so it is a novelty to see him make false starts and turns as the story comes back to him in odd phrases that must be direct translations from his childhood books but he hits his stride and I feel an odd ache in my chest at his obvious pleasure in telling me of a helpful, sarcastic fox and the somewhat hapless prince who so needs its advice. I should have asked him before now for such inspiration. Finally the happy ending is reached and he crooks a smile at me.

"So? Do you think I'm fit to be a fairy-tale prince?"

"I was rather thinking of you as the fox," I say and am glad he laughs a little. "He's definitely the clever one in the story. The prince wouldn't get anywhere without him."

"That's true," he says. "Make me a fox, then, if you think anyone will want to buy a painting of a German fairy-tale."

"I'm sure someone will," I say. I allow myself a moment more of looking at him, his sly expression, his clever mind laughing at me from his narrow face, his colours of red and gold. He does, I think, make a very good fox indeed, and I would get nowhere without him.

"We should start work," I say, and he's on his feet, quickly and lightly.

"Let's find me a fox-like pose," he says, leading the way to the other room.

I follow willingly, ready to take his advice.

 

* * * * *

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> [The Golden Bird](http://www.worldoftales.com/fairy_tales/Brothers_Grimm/Margaret_Hunt/The_Golden_Bird.html)


End file.
